


Ladies Who Lunch

by Celebratory Penguin (cpenguing)



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Drinking, McLennon (mention), Other, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-03 23:37:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14007324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cpenguing/pseuds/Celebratory%20Penguin
Summary: It's the summer of 1968, and Pattie is meeting Maureen for tea and gossip at the Ritz.(Posted on Pattie's birthday - happy birthday, Pisces lady!)





	Ladies Who Lunch

Maureen was running late. 

Pattie tapped her fingernails one at a time on the crystal champagne glass. Each candy-apple red nail struck at a slightly different pitch, something she would not have noticed in the days before she fell in love with a musician. 

Before. Sometimes Pattie thought of **_Before_** with a capital "b," in italics and boldface. Before George, the Beatles, and the madness. Pattie lifted the glass by the stem and took a sip, letting the bubbles caress the tip of her nose. It was an exquisite vintage. She could hardly remember a time when she had known nothing about champagne. **_Before_**. Before Brian took over the management of Pattie and George's first date and gently explained the basics as he ordered bottle after bottle. 

As wingmen went, there would never be another Brian. _God rest him_ , Pattie thought as she took a second sip and checked her watch. 

Maureen was now running seriously late. 

Normal people would not have been seated for high tea at the Ritz with an incomplete party, but Pattie and Maureen were not normal. Once upon a time, there would have been four at their table, but Jane had finally wised up about Paul's libido _\- good on you, Jane_ \- and then they were three. 

Actually, they were two. John had left Cynthia, rather spectacularly, under circumstances that George didn't care to discuss. Pattie had wondered briefly if Yoko would be joining the Beatle Birds, but when she mentioned it to Maureen she was met with a whoop of derisive laughter. 

Maureen finally, finally breezed in, shopping bags in both hands. Her hair, as changeable as weather, was honey-blonde and hung in thick ringlets around her face. "So sorry, love." Each word came a bit breathlessly as she and Pattie exchanged air kisses. All sorts of liveried men bustled about her, taking her bags and coat and pulling out her chair for her. "Getting a taxi was madness! Have you been waiting long?" 

"Not at all," Pattie lied smoothly. 

She liked Maureen, after all. There weren't many women Pattie felt she could trust, not when so many of them wanted an interview, money, or her husband. 

"So. Just the two of us girls now, eh?" Maureen said as if reading Pattie's earlier thoughts. The words were sharp, but her dark, sad eyes were kind. 

"Who'd have thought?" Pattie asked, smiling politely at the waiter who shook a perfect linen napkin over Maureen's lap. Another brought a silver tray of sandwiches. He was young; his hand trembled a little as he realized that he was serving Beatle wives. He blushed when Maureen thanked him, backing away and nearly colliding with a chair. 

They giggled, not unkindly, sharing the secret glance they'd perfected over the years. "Poor thing," Maureen stage-whispered. "No one's going to believe him when he tells who almost made him land on his arse." 

"Bet he won't tell," was Pattie's response as she watched the blushing young man straighten himself up and head back to the kitchen. "That's why I like it here. They're discreet." 

"Here's to discretion, then," Maureen said and lifted her glass to clink against Pattie's. Pattie recognized the telltale upturn of Maureen's mouth; the one that meant gossip was about to pour out of it. 

They each took little nibbles of the triangular sandwiches. Pattie smiled as the familiar cucumber-dill-cream cheese flavor spread on her tongue. George didn't approve of silly, girly frippery like sandwiches with crusts cut off, so these forays into town were a particular treat for her. 

Maureen finished her little salmon sandwich and washed it down with champagne, sighing. "Heavenly. Poor Cynthia could do with some champers." 

Here it was. 

"What?" Pattie wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know. But Cynthia had disappeared from their lives as surely as if she'd fallen off a cliff, so curiosity was going to win out. 

"John's gone full tilt on the divorce. He claimed she'd had an affair in India, with some American bloke. Then when that didn't stick, he said she'd done it with Alex." 

Pattie's eyes went wide and she almost dropped her sandwich. "Alex? MAGIC Alex? Cynthia wouldn't touch him with two ten-foot poles glued together! Is John going mad?" 

"You've seen the witch he's taken up with - you tell me." Maureen, smirking, plucked another triangle from the platter and placed it on her dish. "Well, that's turned on its head because Yoko's pregnant, so Cynthia's countersuing." Maureen bit into the sandwich rather vehemently. "Can't believe John would throw her over for that piece of baggage." 

"I can't believe it, either." Pattie paused, unsure of whether to discuss George's extreme antipathy toward John's new woman. But this was Maureen, after all. "George can't understand any of this. He's furious that John dumped her like this." 

The words George had used to describe Yoko weren't fit for the table at home, much less one at the Ritz. Pattie drained the last of her champagne and turned instead to the tea, pouring a cup for Maureen as well as herself. 

"Ta, darling." Maureen dropped two sugar cubes into her tea, then added a few drops of milk. As she stirred with the tiny sterling spoon, she said, "Imagine poor Cynthia holed up with little Julian and the maid, knowing that the whole world's about to find out that her husband's gone loony." 

"It's grim," Pattie agreed, stirring her own tea listlessly. 

"Brian kept her tucked away back in Liverpool, right when the boys were getting big. Even when she and John got married, it had to be a secret. She said the sisters at the hospital were rotten to her because they thought she was an unwed mum-to-be. Almost two days in labour, no one around, not even the auntie, and this is how he repays her?" Sniffing disdainfully, Maureen flagged down the waiter and held up her champagne glass. 

"Surely he'll do right by Julian, at least, don't you think?" Pattie nodded her thanks as the waiter refilled their glasses with fresh champagne. "John used to play with him all the time, but in the last year or so it's as if he doesn't even care." 

Maureen nodded. "Now the poor little chap's all by himself, what with John's whatchamacallit...edict?" 

Oh. That. Pattie took a good, long swallow of champagne, ignoring the little cakes that had replaced the sandwiches. One of the many things that made George fume was John's pronouncement that Cynthia was to be cut off from the Beatles, as if she had never existed. 

"Did you hear about Paul?" Pattie asked. "He brought Cynthia a rose and asked her to marry him." 

Maureen's laugh was entirely too loud for the room, and several patrons frowned into their teacups. "As if Cyn hasn't suffered enough!" 

Pattie lifted her chin. "Well, I think it was brave. He even wrote a little song for Julian to cheer him up. George was so proud when he told me about it." Pattie could scarcely remember the last time George had said anything so unabashedly loving about Paul. Most of the time, George would start to complain about him then stop himself abruptly as if he couldn't quite manage to unburden himself. 

Maureen helped herself to a petit four and popped it daintily into her mouth. She washed it down with tea, then finished with champagne. "Y'know, I feel almost as sorry for Paul as I do for Cynthia." 

What? 

"Why's that?" asked Pattie, tipping her head to one side the way she always did when she was confused. 

Glancing around, Maureen whispered, "C'mon, love, you KNOW." 

Pattie shook her head. She couldn't understand the flush that rose on Maureen's face or the way her eyes narrowed. 

"John. And Paul. You know." 

"I don't..." 

"Oh, my God." Maureen leaned back in her chair for a moment, her hand over her heart, then she bent forward and crooked a finger at Pattie. "C'mere. Closer." Pattie could smell bergamot and champagne on Maureen's breath as she whispered, "Lovers." 

Shock ran like an electric current through Pattie's entire body. "You're not...you can't be serious!" she gasped. 

"Didn't you ever see the way John looks at Paul?"  
  
"He's short-sighted. He looks at everyone like that!" But to be fair, did he really? Or were the longest glances aimed at Paul? 

"And the penny drops." Maureen took hold of her champagne glass and drank. "Richy says it's been going on almost since they met, since they were kids. But something went wrong in India, not long before he and I left, and it's not been the same. Now there's this crazy Yoko bitch and it's not just Cynthia that John's dumped, it's Paul as well." 

"Ssh, not so loud," Pattie admonished. Her brain was racing, recalling little snatches of things George had told her. _It's not just writing with those two. No one gets to Paul the way John does. John doesn't give a toss what anyone thinks of him, not except Paul._

"Here, eat some damn cake, put a bit of colour in your face. You're white as this tablecloth." Maureen held out a slice of Battenburg cake and Pattie took it without even thinking, nibbling at the marzipan until she got to the pink square. 

"But...there were all the girls, and JANE..." 

"Jane? They liked each other well enough, and they looked wonderful together, and it kept the...thing with John from being too obvious. Boosted her career, kept him safe. Until he embarrassed her, that is."

"With that girl. But that was a girl. But you're telling me that Jane knew?" She lowered her voice to a husky whisper. "Did she KNOW? About John?" 

Maureen grinned. "It's called being a beard. They had sex sometimes - Paul likes girls a LOT, in case you didn't notice, and the only guy he's interested in is John - but she knew a hawk from a handsaw." 

Pattie looked down and realized she'd eaten the entire slice of cake without thinking about it. "My God. I'd no idea." Oddly, she was far from disgusted by the notion. A flicker of memory flashed before her: John and Paul singing into a microphone together, eyes locked, two men turning their breath into magic. 

Smiling conspiratorially, Maureen put another piece of cake on Pattie's plate and watched her take a few bites. "I'll tell you something else, love - this means that we're none of us safe. If John and Paul can do it, so can the other boys. We're disposable." 

Choking, Pattie reached for her teacup and drank until she felt the cake slide all the way down her throat. She put her hand on top of Maureen's. "You don't mean that, Mo." 

"Oh, but I do. Sure, Paul didn't actually dump Jane, but he certainly made it impossible for her to stay. And this business with John is as cracked as it could be. Not just with Cynthia - although God knows that's bad enough - but for him to throw over Paul as well, after all THEY went through together, then anything's possible." 

Maureen and Ringo had their boys, and Ringo had taken to fatherhood much more than John ever had, so for Maureen to see possible betrayal in their situation made her own look bleak. All Pattie had was the monthly disappointment and the absent look in George's eyes when he inevitably hugged her and equally inevitably went right back to playing his guitar. 

"Shit." 

"Exactly." Maureen held up her champagne glass. "So, here's to survival." 

"Survival it is." Pattie lifted the flute to her lips and drank, hoping to find solace. She grimaced.

The champagne had gone warm and flat in her glass.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of complete and total fiction. It is also a work of complete and total lack of a beta reader other than Word's grammar check, so let me apologize in advance for whatever is going wrong.


End file.
